Please, Stake me!
by Fiji The Beggar
Summary: Spike is alone in his crypt ... or is he?


Title: "Please, stake ME!"  
Category: Angst (that's the idea anyway)  
Rated: PG-13  
Characters: Spike  
Continuity: Anywhere from late S5 to end S6  
Summary: Spike is alone in his crypt ... or is he?  
Disclaimer: all hail Joss  
  
Oh how he hated the chip. Demons had come into his crypt and he had killed them. Vampires had raided his Fridge and he had killed them. But now, Powercompany men has come and removed his extentioncord. And to add insult to stale blood in the lukewarm fridge, they had done so in broad daylight. What is this world coming to when you couldn't even pilfer a few megawatts now and again. He supposed he should be glad they didn't follow the entire length of the cable back to his crypt.   
  
They settled for cutting it where it entered the cemetery. Now he had to go out and grab a new cable. Man, death was a bitch.  
By the light of a solitary candle, he was collecting everything he'd need to liberate a sizeable extentioncord from the nearest electrical supply depot. Crowbar ... check, flashlight ... check, oh yeah, get new batteries for the damn thing while he was there, duster ... check, gotta look the part. 'Right then' he thought 'and we're off.'   
He paused for a moment, trying to remember where he'd left his smokes. Then, his crypt quite like ... well, like a crypt, he could hear something.   
  
A slight rustling sound, it instantly caught his attention. Someone, or more likely, something was inside his crypt. Whoever it was, he was in for the ass kicking of his life. You don't come into Spike's crypt uninvited, well, unless you're the slayer. The rustling was now at the other end of the room. Spike's mood had long since hit rock bottom and not even the prospect of tearing the trespasser to tiny little pieces could improve that.  
  
"Whoever you are, you got exactly zero seconds to get out of here." he snarled while changing into his demonic face.  
  
The soon-to-be-corpse stayed silent.  
  
"Fine, die a mute then" he started for the rustling but as soon as he took 1 step, the sound was cut off. Bugger, he hated it when they hid. Concentrate Spike, he told himself. He could hear the gentle night breeze playing through the grass outside. He heard the traffic almost a mile away. He heard a bug scurrying about. He couldn't hear his uninvited guest. So it's a vampire then he reasoned, had to be a ...  
  
"William ..." a slight chuckle followed.  
  
He spun around, HOW did he get over there? No matter. With a great leap he landed right on top of the vampire ... or so he would have thought. Nothing! Nothing but dust and concrete.  
  
He growled.  
  
"William ..." hollowed by an outright laugh.  
  
Screaming like a wild animal he dove at the source of the sound. Nothing! Again, Nothing!!!  
  
"Who the fuck are you!" he bellowed, squeezing his fists tight.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?"   
  
He yanked his flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. There weren't a thousand places to hide in his crypt. Only behind the coffin. He leapt upon it to find nothing there. Spinning around he found his crypt to be empty. He checked the TV, to small to hide behind. He was about to switch off the flashlight when he finally saw the bastard. A pitch-black shape stood right in the centre of his crypt. No double row of razor-sharp teeth glistening, no red eyes glowing, just a black shape. With a primal scream he leapt at the figure.   
None of his blows landed, that thing was moving with lightning speed. Occasionally he could swear his fist just went trough the shadow. A shadow, that's what it was, he was fighting a shadow. But shadows generally didn't fight back. A crashing blow across the face made Spike stumble back. Another blow, two, three, he tried to block them, avoid them but to no avail. He blindly punched back and hit something. The assault stopped.   
Blood dripping from a cut in his lip, Spike tried to make sense of it all. Before he could formulate a plan the attack resumed. The thing was running circles around him, hitting him all over, head, back, knee, shoulder, ribs. Spike flailed about wildly. Every time, every single time, the thing evaded. But his brain kept working, through the pain he managed to detect a pattern. And soon enough he managed to grad the thing's arm.   
  
"My turn" Spike smiled as he pounded on where the head should be.   
  
Then his hand was empty, the thing had pulled another Houdini.   
He heard his cup move. Next thing he knew it smashed into his head.   
  
"Hey! No fair!" he shouted.  
  
"And you're an expert on fair now?" the answer came.  
  
The TV hit him full in the chest. The blow sent him crashing into a wall. Before he could regain his footing, every single thing in his crypt was hurled at him. Get out! his mind screamed. He headed for the door. He was almost there when a thick veil settled on his windows, blocking out every last bit of light. The last thing he saw was his chair being smashed to pieces. His wooden chair got smashed into wooden pieces of the handy stake size format.   
He managed to utter "Bloody 'ell" and then the first stake hit, in his gut. Spike doubled over. He tried to get the thing out but a second one struck him in the leg. He couldn't stop himself from screaming in agony. Another stake and another, he got hit everywhere except his heart.   
  
Lying on the floor dripping blood all over the place he stammered "Stop ... please."  
  
"Begging, William? For what? Your miserable existance?"  
  
Gathering all his strength he shouted "What do you want!"  
  
Some incredible force picked him off the floor and smashed him into a wall, then the opposite wall. He got slammed into walls, the ceiling, the floor, all the while screaming "STOP!"  
The world stopped moving. He was on the floor. Or, no, he was on the concrete coffin. most of the stakes slammed out of him.   
  
Was it gone? Was he even still undead? No, the thing gently picked up his leg. What the ... and snapped it like a twig.   
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH"  
And he was up in the air again. Hanging in mid air, the thing started spinning him around, faster and faster. Staking him, punching him. He was spinning so fast he thought his arms would come off.   
  
"Stop! Please!"  
  
More pain.  
  
"I'll do anything!"  
  
More pain.  
  
"Please, just stake me!"  
  
The spinning stopped.  
He was on the floor, in a rapidly growing puddle of his own blood.  
Every single part of his body hurt.  
Moving hurt.  
Lying still hurt.  
Bruised.  
Muscles torn.  
Bones broken.  
  
  
  
Buffy made her way towards the crypt. Tired from a night of above average slayage. She had mentally tossed a coin, heads: home and a bath, tails: cuddle up to Spike. The toss had come up heads but there were things a warm bath couldn't that Spike could, so here she was. Only a few dozen feet from the crypt she sensed something. Something was seriously wrong. She rushed to the door and yanked it open.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
She crashed onto her knees next to him, afraid to touch the bloody mess before her, afraid she might kill him by just looking.   
  
Spike felt someone nearby "Please, stake me" he begged.  
  
---  
  
Buffy sat on a headstone, watching Willow make complicated gestures, reciting incomprehensible phrases.   
Willow stopped, her shoulders slumped.  
Buffy closed her eyes, sighed. She already knew the answer but she asked the question anyway "Anything?"  
  
An apology in her eyes she said "No, nothing, The only demonic energy I get is Spike's ... well and yours of course."  
  
"Do it again"  
  
"No, I mean, I've done it 3 times already. Sure, I'll do it again if you want but there really is no point."  
  
"Sure you're doing it right?" She cursed herself inwardly, she hadn't meant for that to sound like an accusation.  
  
But Willow understood her perseverance.   
"Look, Buffy, every single demonic thing leaves behind a disturbance in lands they walk on. It's readable for several days after they've passed through." Buffy already knew this but Will figured she needed the talk. "Spike was here last night and  
so where you."  
  
Buffy cringed, it had been news to her that in the great world of mortals and demons, she ranked among the demons.   
  
Willow continued "But other than that ... nothing."  
  
Buffy's head snapped up "A haunt! Could it have been a haunt? Human souls ... that's not demonic, right? They wouldn't show up, right?"  
  
Willow mulled it over a second or two "No they wouldn't"  
  
"Than it had to be a haunt!" She jumped from the headstone "We have to ..."  
  
Willow grabbed her by the shoulders "I seriously doubt it ... a haunt this powerful ..." she shook her head, not possible. But right now, Buffy needed some spark of light, a straw to grab onto "There's probably a spell to look for that ... I'll check it out."  
  
Buffy resigned herself to the awful truth, something had torn her Spike to pieces and there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
Willow, anxious to stop Buffy from totally slipping into depressed mode, said "How is he now?"  
  
"Same. Managed to get some blood into him last night, not much" She stared ahead "well at least he's feeding, that's good right?"  
  
Willow hooked her arm under Buffy's "Yes, that's good. Come on, let's get out of here."  
  
Buffy tried to put Spike aside for a moment "Graveyard giving you the willies, Will?"  
  
"Well, you know, the whole graveyards and unborn children thing."  
  
Ah, a subject that had nothing to do with Spike "How is little William?"  
Instant lump in the throat when she heard herself uttering Spike's human name.  
Every subject had to do with Spike, she never noticed before how big a part of her life Spike had become.  
  
Will acted asif she didn't notice Buffy's turmoil "Well, he's kicking the hell out of me, which is good for him ... Not so good for me though ... but hey, check it out, haven't had a close encounter of the gross kind with my breakfast for at least a week now."  
  
"So, no more barf stories?"  
  
"No," she held her hand asif swearing an oath "there shall be no more barf in my stories."  
  
"That's great Will" but by the end of the sentence, her mind was already back in the basement of the Summers's home where Spike lay, all black and blue, scabs and scars, in a near full body cast.  
  
---  
  
One hour after sundown, a quite street in a quite night. If you'd listen carefully you might hear a gameshow playing on this or that TV in this or that well lit house. A lone car drives by, it signals a right turn and stops at the corner. Then in a puff of blueish smoke, betraying a problem with the oil, it's off again.   
Not a soul on the street and yet a lone figure in a long black coat is walking the sidewalk. That is, if you can call his jerky movements walking. The man has a bad limp ... in both legs so it seems.   
The man is of course Spike, the vampire. Creature of the night, he is very much afraid of the dark right now. Right in the middle between two streetlights, where darkness seeps in the most he hears a noise. His head jerks to the left, muscles complaining bitterly against the abuse.  
A cat.  
A bleeding cat.  
If his heart did anything other then just sit there, it would be racing right now.   
For the ten millionth time tonight, he yearns for a fag but that would mean expanding his chest, including the dozen or so broken ribs. His mind switches to the basement, where he would be safe from things that want to go bump on his ass. He turns to the Summers' house, flinching at the spikes of pain shooting through his body.   
  
Dawn sees him looking, she puts down her baseballbat to wave to him. 'Don't worry Spike, I'll protect you' she had said.  
  
Once, a long time ago, he had been her protector, now this teen with a bat and a stake was the only thing keeping him safe.  
But he doesn't feel safe and he does worry. The basement, all he can think off is the basement. At least, vampires can't get at him there.   
And they are watching. Yes, he's sure they are all watching. There, behind that hedge or up that tree or in those shadows. He desperately wants to run over to the house. The only things stopping him are the fact that he can't run right now and that Dawn would make him start over.   
'Once up and down the street' the slayer had said.   
'You need the exercise' Willow had said.   
WHAT FOR? To be in tip-top shape next time the haunt (or whatever it was) comes looking for a spot of kick the Spike?  
'Don't worry Spike, I'll protect you' Dawn had said.  
But he does worry.   
Come on Spike, he tells himself, get going! And the fragile collection of skin and bones and muscles starts moving again.  
"I'm Spike, the bad-ass vampire" he mutters to himself, but every time he says it, he's sure the haunt is somewhere out there laughing at him, at this so-called badass.  
"I'm not afraid" but he is.  
"I'm Spike, I'm not afraid"  
"I'm Spike, I'm not afraid"  
"I'm Spike, I'm not afraid"  
But before he reaches the end of the street it changes to "Please, stake me."  
  
---  
  
Willow, the appointed Spike sitter for the night, carefully made her way down the basement stairs. The radical change to her centre of gravity, coupled with her hips becoming more flexible made this undertaking sufficiently serious to warrant extra care. With less then 8 weeks to go, she was getting increasingly afraid of a miscarriage. Tara had assured her that William was now viable and little could still go wrong and for her sake, Willow had put on a brave face. But at the back of her mind, a little voice kept telling her that William's unnatural conception would yet avenge itself.  
  
"Spike?" She called out "It's me, Willow." Of course it was, there was no one else in the house. But Spike had insisted that anyone entering his hideout would announce themselves. She reached the bottom of the stairs, just in time to see Spike put down his battleaxe, his mood sombre as it had been for months now.  
  
"Hey Big Red." just a tiny bit of the old Spike twinkled in his eyes as he forced a smile.  
  
"Spike, the weirdest thing just happened, that was Willy just now at the front door."  
  
Spike stared blankly for a moment. As weird things went in Sunnydale, the world capitol of weirdness, this event barely registered as on oddity. Anyway, to him, it was not even that. "I know, I asked him to."  
  
"So that's your bike" she tossed him the keys "It's good to see getting out more".  
  
"Yeah" Spike said absentmindedly "Did he say anything?"  
  
"No, not really, he just handed me the keys, stared at my belly" she went all pouty face "and took off."  
  
"Good, I told him to keep quiet." then he added "and by the way, there's nothing wrong with your belly."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Spike just smiled at her.  
  
Willow made with the fuzzy feelings. "Hang on, you asked someone known as 'the snitch' to keep quiet"  
  
Spike answered "We have an understanding" while he reached behind the couch for his backpack.  
He headed for the stairs, as paused next to Willow. Just long enough to reach inside his duster and hand her a sealed envelope. "Make sure Slayer gets this ... please."  
  
It dawned on Willow "You're leaving?!"  
  
But Spike was already halfway up the stairs.  
  
Willow gestured at the door and it slammed shut "Spike no! You can't, you're not ready. To ... to go out and to ... be alone"  
  
He turned but avoided her eyes "Red, I need to do this." He let that hang in the air for a moment, then "please don't stop me."   
Without waiting for her reply he marched up the stairs again.  
  
"Spike!" she called after him, both hands on her belly "You promised, you promised to be here!"  
  
Yes, he did promise but his promise had no value, he told himself. He was a soulless demon, his promises were void, he lied to himself. Leaning his forehead against the door he raised his voice "Don't worry Red, I'll be back in time" then, under his breath "maybe."  
  
Three seconds later Willow was alone in the basement. She flopped down on Spike's ex-couch, numbly listening to the vampire leaving. Front door slammed shut ... heavy rumble of the bike ... it accelerated off the driveway ... down the street. Soon it dissolved into the distant sounds of traffic, and he was gone. They'd help him, find whatever trashed him and kill it. They had failed, let him down. And now he let down, a lover, a protege, ... an unborn child.  
  
Willow didn't know if she should worry about him or wish him a forthcoming dusting.  
  
---  
  
  
Lilah shot up, heart racing, more sweat than could be accounted for by the broken AC. Nightmare, nothing new, she tried to steady herself but the images wouldn't go away. Nightmares were normal when you worked for W&H. All got them, for some they went away after a month or so, for other ...  
She snapped her head around, then back, but no monsters leapt out of the dark corners of her apartment to rip her heart from her chest and devour it. 5:13 ... to late to try for more sleep. She made her way over to her bar, knees still shaking. God, this one had been vivid. The cooled bottle of Johnny Walker offered comfort. One advantage of being senior management, no more random drug tests and even if it showed up in a mind scan, it was a minor issue. She figured vices were encouraged for managers so they could be exploited later on, if needed. Right now, she couldn't give a rat's ass.   
Pressing the glass to her temple, the nightmare went into syndication. Not that she needed any reminding. Angel, many of her nightmares featured Angel, only this time, he just had a bitpart. The main bringer of death was someone else, every time his blood soaked vampiric face flashed in front of her minds eye she had an eerie sense of deja vu. With the whiskey setting in, she finally managed to think straight or at least a little less crooked. She did know him ... from Angel's file.   
In the time it took her portable to boot, she had regained much of her composure. She was vice president of special projects damn it! Some stupid little nightmare wasn't going to get her! Ah, here we go, that's him ... Spike AKA William the Bloody. Drusilla's childe, Angels grandchilde, the unimportant one. So why was she now having very vivid dreams about just that vampire?  
  
---  
  
Nathan Reed was catching up on some paperwork. Starting at 8:15 AM his day was packed with one meeting after another. Some of this stuff could be handled by Sarah, his personal assistant, but he preferred to do it himself. You never knew what tiny gems of info you'd otherwise miss out on.  
The intercom made that annoying buzzing noise. Nathan checked the bottom right hand side of his computer monitor, 8:01. This had better be important.   
  
"Yes, Sarah?"  
  
"Ms. Morgan request a moment of your time, sir."  
  
Lilah? What was she doing here? Sure he had told her he had an open door policy but he assumed she knew he didn't mean that.  
"Fine, send her in" he said, making no effort to hide his annoyance.  
  
Before Lilah could say anything, Nathan told her "I have a meeting with a vampire in 12 minutes so make this short."  
  
"Sir," she hesitated, drawing a frown from Nathan "I would like your permission to consult a company dreamreaper"  
  
WHAT? This was getting crazier by the second "You did get the memo on dreamreapers right?"  
  
"Yes sir"  
  
"I think we would all rather avoid another unfortunate incident like with the late Mr. Suzuki"  
  
"Yes sir, I realise that but I am quite sure this was a prophetic dream and I feel we'd be making a mistake not to follow up on this."  
  
"Ok, dazzle me, what was the dream about?"  
  
"Spike"  
  
"Spike? No, doesn't ring a bell." get on with it woman, vampires hate daytime meetings.  
  
"Angel's grandchilde"  
  
"Angel?! Lilah, that project has been put on hold indefinitely ... and another thing Darla's line is off-limits until we can control the whole Drusilla/Darla situation."  
  
OK, time to switch gears, she would have preferred to keep some of this up her sleeve but ...  
"Yes, Spike is part of the Darla line, but" she approached his desk "no one of that line will have anything to do with him. He's been alone for ages now." Well, if a year or two could be refereed to as 'ages'  
"And" she leaned on the desk, prompting Nathan to lean back "I have reasons to believe we've been barking up the wrong tree with Angel."  
  
Nathan displayed his enormous surprise by means of blinking his eyes twice in the same minute. "You're not going to tell me Spike's got a soul aswell?"  
  
"No sir, but there is something about him ..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That, I need the dreamreaper for."  
  
Nathan snorted, studied his hands for a moment, then said "I'll let you know what I decide."  
  
"But Sir ..."  
  
Nathan just stared at her.  
  
Don't push him, woman! "I'll be going now"  
  
"That would be best" Nathan kept staring at her until the door was shut. What to make of all this? Angel is NOT our guy?  
Could be that Lilah is just grasping at straws here. Her appointment is marked 'conditional' in level 1 documents. Lilah didn't have access to those documents, but being the resourceful girl that she was, she probably knew.  
He called up her file. Her scores for precognition and clairvoyance were nearly off the scale ... at the low end. She tested way below company average, below even the average of the general population. So if she had a bonafide prophetic dream, someone would have had to send it to her.   
Now, as for this Spike character, he called up Spike's file only to discover there was none. He did feature in an appendix to Drusilla's file. One thing did capture his attention, two confirmed slayer kills. They'd have to be careful around him.  
He reached his decision, if he smudged the paperwork somewhat, he could always claim Lilah was acting alone if things went sour.  
  
Just then the intercom interrupted again "Your 8:15 is here, sir."  
  
"He'll have to wait. Get me the head of DRM." He could trust Keith, the president of demonic resources, with this. Well, no, he couldn't trust him. But Keith knew he had files on his religious life and thus could be trusted to some extent.  
  
---  
  
LA was big. LA was huge. Spike didn't know exactly where Angel and his little freakshow resided but chances of bumping into them were virtually nil. Besides, he'd only stay about for a couple of days. All he needed to do was make sure his bike wouldn't die on him once he left civilisation behind. Well, once he left halfway decent mechanics behind anyway. Guatemala was a long way away.   
Finding an abandoned building had been no problem, thank Bush for recessions. Finding one that didn't have a nest was more of a problem. For the first time in his undeath, his rep was working against him. Vamps recognised him, 'Two slayer William' some called him. They clung to him like Bezoar spawn. He had to get rid of them before they realised this was the new and degraded Spike. They'd kill him in no time flat. Food was another problem, the 4 sacks of blood he left the hellmouth with were long gone and he had no idea if there were hospitals or butcher shops nearby. The biggest problem was perhaps the loneliness. He tried to keep busy, but whenever he paused for just a moment, they came. Dawn and Willow and Buffy, sometimes angry, sometimes crying, always disappointed. And when it wasn't one of the three girls, it was that black thing, bigger every time he remembered it. Tearing at him, ripping him apart. He didn't know what he feared more, getting staked or not getting staked.   
He stood in front of the window, dawn had already come. In a big city like this, that didn't mean certain death for a vampire. There was always some shadow somewhere. Like for that vamp down there. Humans, most of them barely minutes out of bed, looked at him like he was a madman and forgot about him seconds later. He ran, stumbled, fell, clawed his way back up. Spike judged that he still had a good 10 minutes before the sun would engulf this street. Must be a young vamp, couple of decades max. Spike didn't fear the sun, never had, never would. The vamp made it to his nest. Spike stayed at the window watching the humans go about their early morning business. It would be so easy to just stay here, wait for the sun and be done with it. Collecting every last bit of strength he had left, he managed to tear himself away from the window. There were some rags in the corner. They would keep him from bursting into flames. He buried himself under them and prayed to whoever was listening that his sleep would be dreamless.  
  
---  
  
Dawn sighed for the fifth time in less than 15 minutes. She looked over at the kitchen door.  
  
"No Dawn" Buffy said, never looking up from her book.  
  
"No what Dawn?"  
  
"No, you didn't hear the back door. No, Spike isn't back. No, Spike will never BE back."  
  
"Don't say that!" her eyes still soar from the last time, she felt another mega-cry session coming on "He promised Willow."  
  
"So what, he's a soulless demon, his word is worth less than an election promise 2 seconds after they tallied the votes."  
  
The waterworks were coming on.  
  
"Oh Come on Dawn! Why would he be any different? Angel, Riley, even Parker if you want to count him. They all leave."  
Buffy jumped up "Know what? If I ever find him, I'll drive a stake through his heart AND LAUGH DOING IT!"  
  
Dawn was doing her best to fight back the tears. "But he can't help it. And ... and he said he loved you ... in his letter."  
  
Yes, he did, Buffy thought. She regretted her outburst, a little anyway. Yes, Spike had problems, stuff she couldn't help him with. But damn it! Why couldn't he work through them right here? They would have found his attacker sooner or later.   
Damn you, Spike. Damn you for leaving. Damn you for hurting me, for hurting Dawn and Willow and little William. Damn you to hell. And ... and ... and be safe, be alive, come back, please.  
She observed her sister cry her eyes out. Buffy was done crying, she had been hurt too much, too often and by to many people. But Dawn, with her inexperience and her crush on Spike and her fantasy world where her elder sister would marry the friendly neighbourhood vampire, Spike meant a lot to her, older brother, fantasy lover, surrogate father even. She crashed onto the couch, next to Dawn. She hugged her, held her, let her cry. How could she comfort her when she, herself, didn't have a clue what to think of the whole thing, let alone what to feel.  
  
Except, come back, Spike. Please.  
  
---  
  
Lilah watched the last guy entering the meeting room, TWO MINUTES LATE! As soon the he had found himself a chair, Lilah opened the meeting.  
  
"Alright, now that we're all here," she paused to give everyone the opportunity to glare a Mr. unpunctual "The goal of this meeting if to decide if project Angel should be reopened".  
  
Some of the attendants shifted uneasily in their chairs, some of them got to their current position because the previous owner became vampire food.  
  
"We've uncovered evidence that suggests we've been going after the wrong vampire. Mr.Blundell from the linguistic department here will explain this."  
  
A rather pale man with an unimpressive physique made his way to the front of the room. He adjusted the glasses he had to wear after years of peering at texts in horribly unreadable handwriting, then he set off. "This," he pointed at the projection "is the text that we THOUGHT referred to Angel as a pivotal character." He might aswell have shown a Dadaist poem written by a teletubby, since no one besides him could read the text.  
"This part here" he clicked the mousebutton and an utterly useless animation enlarged a portion of the text "describes the dead man who drinks of life and has ..." The next word sounded a lot like a human sized cat coughing up the mother of all hairballs.  
  
  
"What on earth is a ... what you said," Reed asked.  
  
"That's the kicker, we've always assumed it meant 'soul' because, when we translated it, we already knew of the vampire with a soul. BUT" he stuck his finger up in the air "the people who wrote this didn't know what a soul was."  
  
"And you know this, how exactly?" Keith Meunier, the head of demonic resources asked.  
  
"Well ..." Blundell was caught.  
  
Lilah made the save "We assume as much."  
  
"You assume!" Meunier said.  
  
"Wait till you've heard all of it, there's more"  
  
"There had better be" he muttered.  
  
"Ok, so, my theory is" Blundell, slightly worse for ware, said "that the text actually said 'he who has the ability to love'"  
  
Before anyone could object, Lilah added "That's how these people told the difference between humans and demons. Now, there is one other vampire who fits the bill: Spike."  
  
The name obviously meant nothing to anyone, so Lilah called up a little familytree. "This here is Angel, sired by Darla, siring Drusilla. And here, we have Spike, Sired by Drusilla."  
  
"Now Spike," she called up a larger picture of him "has undergone some procedure, the nature of which we're unsure off. But the net result is, he can no longer harm humans, or so our contact in Sunnydale tells us. Our contact also states that Spike had been observed in the company of the slayer." A bad quality picture of Buffy appeared on the screen. Lilah could practically feel the scepticism in the room rise. The slayer was off limits, since she came attached to an organisation, the size and strength of which was unknown. "Our contact also tells us that Spike and the slayer have had intimate relations."  
  
"Does that qualify as 'ability to love'?" someone asked.  
  
"In and off itself, no, but there's more." Lilah turned to a seemingly empty seat and said "Orn, if you please."  
  
In the seat appeared a figure dressed in a long purple robe, His face so deeply hidden inside his hood that you couldn't make out it's features. His hands were likewise hidden inside his long and wide sleeves. As he stood up, his chair moved back of it's own accord. He walked to the front of the room or rather, he floated as his feet didn't move at all. It was difficult to make out his exact figure as the instant you looked away or even blinked, his image faded like a distant memory. The older members at the table recognised him as a dreamreaper, the younger ones just labelled him 'something you don't want to run into at night'.   
  
By the time he reached the front of the table, Lilah had switched off the projector. Orn produced a small stone urn from his vast sleeves. The urn seemed to float in mid air, but if you looked carefully, you could see his hand with its impossibly long fingers. Orn uncorked the urn and took a long faintly glowing stick out of his other sleeve. When he tapped the urn, a mist appeared out of it. Inside the mist images formed.   
  
The dream, for that was what it was, didn't seem has as scary to Lilah now that it played out somewhere other then her head.  
  
Lilah explained parts of the dream, backed up by Meunier, who had experience in reading dreams. She pointed out parts that showed Spike's love for the slayer, twisted and depraved, but love none the less. She shows the part where Spike destroyed some piece of the master plan the PTB had. She had Orn replay that part several times. Then came the parts of the dream that showed that Spike was open to recruitment. The means of recruitment were pretty simple, kick the crap out of him. That part spawned the most doubters.  
  
When she was done Lilah sat down, Reed now led the discussion. Another two and a half-hours later, it was decided ... They would go after Spike. The meeting room emptied, Lilah standing at the centre of attention, accepting accolades left and right. None of them were sincere, she was perfectly aware of that, but it still gave her ego a nice boost.  
  
Reed and Meunier were last to leave.  
  
"This dream" Reed said "what's your take on it?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Nathan. It's almost ... It's probably nothing."  
  
"Come on, Keith, this project will cost us thousands of dollars, I need to be sure."  
  
"Well, the dream was a little too structured. Conveniently pointing from a to b to c."  
  
"And that never happens?"  
  
"Sure it happens, it's rare, that's all."  
  
"Morgan does score very low on precognition."  
  
"That could explain it. To whoever sent this dream, she's pretty much a blank sheet."  
  
"So, who sent the dream?"  
  
"Impossible to say, could even be there was no sentient being behind it at all, frightfully tricky business this dreamreading."  
  
--- ---  
  
Four vampires were making their way to a seemingly unimportant building in an unimportant street. They made no effort to conceal their true nature and freely waved about their new toys, tasers. One of them was confidently strutting ahead of the other three, who were in a deep discussion. One of the trio broke away and caught up with the leader.  
  
"Chief, word has it that we're going after Spike."  
  
"Beats me, all I have is an address and a picture." he stopped and handed over a rather vague printout.  
  
The two other vamps huddled around, "Yeah, that's him."  
  
"And how would you know?" the chief asked.  
  
"I was his minion once"  
  
"Whatever" the chief set off again.  
  
"Chief?"  
  
"What now!"  
  
"Spike, that's like, some kind of super vampire right? Ate two slayers right?"  
  
"Why do you think there's four of us? with tasers."  
  
"Well, suppose we were to take him on without the tasers."  
  
The chief smiled, baring his fangs "We'd be famous."  
  
Spike sat in a corner, trying to wring another drop of blood from a pigeon he had caught. With a loud bang, the door flew open. He didn't bother to check who it was. Just run, get out of here. He had had the presence of mind to pick a room with 2 doors. He didn't even take the time to utter "Fuck!"  
Through another room and another, a hallway. The stairs? Which way to the stairs? He crashed into another room and almost had his head taken off.  
  
"Good shot Marv," one of his attackers said to another vamp holing a 2-by-4.   
  
Spike tried to get to his feet but the two chasing him were now here. Grins all 'round, they all attacked at the same time. Spike didn't even try to fight, he just tried to protect his head as much as possible. The blows came fast, from all sides at once. Some much like ... that night. The thought alone made his knees fail. As he lay on the floor, he heard "Let's have some fun."  
  
One vamp pinned his hands to the floor, two others pulled his legs apart.  
  
Their leader took up position "I used to play soccer" then, off the weird looks of his minions "as a human, what did you think?!"  
  
"Oh bugger" Spike whimpered as waves of nauseating pain rolled over him.  
  
"An excellent suggestion ... maybe later. Now, it's time for a penalty kick."   
  
This is gonna hurt. Spike closed his eyes. No pain, just a familiar scream, sounds of a struggle and two more dustings. He managed to open an eye in time to see a black kid tackle the last surviving vampire. A brunette then slayed him. As darkness overtook him, his last thought was 'I know that girl.'  
  
  
Feeling returned, a mixed blessing. All was quiet around him. A slight draft on his skin told him his chest was exposed, except for a bandage that is. Opening his eyes he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. There was someone in the corner over there. He shot up as fast as his bruised body would allow. A dark shape. "God no" he whispered. But before desperation could completely set in, the shadow took a step forward ... Angel.  
  
"So, you're finally up." Angel walked over to the bed and handed Spike a pouch of blood.  
  
Spike yanked the pouch out of his hands and tore into it, guzzling the live giving liquid.  
  
"You're one lucky bastard, you know. When Cordy had a vision about you I nearly had a rebellion on my hands. Had to take a vote."  
  
The pouch already empty, Spike asked "They voted to save me?"  
  
"No, you lost, I had to pull rank." Angel sat down next to the bed "So, tell me, what's wrong with this picture?"  
  
"Not your problem" Spike studied some random spot on the opposite wall.  
  
"Cordy had a vision, that makes it my problem"  
  
"Queen of bitches gets a migraine and you take it as a sign from the Gods?"  
  
Angel leaned closer, way to close for Spike's liking "Queen of bitches saved your worthless ass."  
  
Spike searched for a witty reply but drew a blank.  
  
"And yes, it is a sign from the Gods, well, the Powers anyway."  
  
Still blank.  
  
"So, out with it. What's wrong with the great Spike?"  
  
Clasping his last shred of dignity, Spike said "Nothing, off my game, that's all."  
  
"Yeah, sure, getting your ass kicked by 4 no name random vamps is just 'being off your game'"  
  
"It could be."  
  
"No, Spike, you can fool a lot of people, but not me. I know you. Even when you were off, you'd still slaughter the little ones. Why do you think I ... Why do you think Angelus kept you around? For your charming personality?"  
  
"Well, yeah." Spike said with a hurt tone in his voice.  
  
Angel just stared at him.  
  
"I'm not telling you."  
  
"Fine, I've got time, not getting any older and hey, neither are you, so looks like we'll be in here for a while"  
  
Spike made a choice, he tried forgetting whom he was talking to, then he started. The attack, the months of revalidation and pain, the fear, the constant paralysing fear. He talked about Willow's attempts to find the attacker, about Giles' research, about Dawn and Buffy talking to him, coaching him. All had failed and in the end it had just been him and his fear. Fear of life, fear of death, most of all, fear of pain. When he was done, he felt exhausted, drained, empty. Angel didn't speak, which was just as well, right now, Spike couldn't handle the sound of his voice.  
  
Angel, for his part, considered Spike's story. Spike had never been like other vampires. Sure, every vampire was full of himself, that is, until he meets one greater then himself. But not Spike, the best way to describe it was ... that Spike was in love with himself. He has the ideal image of himself. Not even being around Angelus for several decades put a stop to that. Dru had encouraged it, had loved it. And when he bagged his first slayer ...   
And then he got chipped and his real world power came crashing down and only the image remained. Sure, being around Buffy had chipped away at uber-Spike, but not enough.  
And then he gets utterly trashed, torn to pieces, ripped, shredded and nothing he tried had any effect. Uber-Spike died that night and regular Spike had no way to fill the void. It was like he was a clean sheet of paper again. The only question was ... who would be doing the writing.  
Wesley could ... no, if Giles found nothing after months and months. What could Wesley hope to come up with? Cordy's vision had been exceptionally short, just Spike and a convenient way to locate him, probing her for more hints as to what to do was useless.  
There was one resource he had access to that Buffy lacked ... Lorne. It was a long shot, but any plan is better then no plan.  
  
"OK, Spike, rest up. I'll get you some more blood."  
  
Only the last word of that sentence registered in Spike.  
  
---  
  
Part of him wanted to bolt, to get as far from Angel as possible, another part knew he'd be safe near Angel. Both parts hated him for staying. They were in a part of LA that was foreign to him, but then again, the vast majority of LA was foreign to him. They were going to someone who could help him, Spike had only agreed to come along since the alternative was sitting around with Cordelia and that low-budget Giles. Angel suddenly stopped.  
  
"Here it is" he declared.  
  
They were standing in front of a doorway, not unlike any of a dozen doorways they had passed in the last couple of minutes. There were no signs, no markings of any kind. The only thing that set it aside was the faint music that came from within and the truly huge demon sitting on a barstool at the end of the hall.  
  
Angel caught Spike's gaze "Don't worry, that's just Mandy, the bouncer."  
  
They entered, Spike's only thought was 'bouncer?' But the inside of the building surprised him even more. A bar filled with demons, vampires and a handful of humans. He couldn't decide what surprised him more, the fact that no killing was going on or the two-ton Koshkosh demon belching 'Rock around clock' on stage. Well, it might have been 'Tainted love', hard to tell really.   
  
"Angelcakes!" someone exclaimed. A rather unimpressive green skinned demon with tiny horns came towards them with his arms stretched out. Spike was forced to raise an eyebrow when the demon grabbed Angel by the shoulders. A hug nearly developed.  
  
When the demon was done touching Angel he said "You need my help."  
  
Angel smiled a little "What gave it away?"  
  
"The fact that you're here" then his attention switched to Spike "My my, what do we have here. Were you born or just chiselled from a block of granite?"  
  
"Sired actually" Spike said for lack of anything sensible to offer.  
  
"Angel ... have you been naughty?"  
  
"I didn't sire him."  
  
"Well, I'll tell you this for nothing, black, not your colour, sugar. Have you tried a nice beige? Or, wait, I know, your cheekbones just scream 'Hawaii shirt'. Oh nonono, I'm getting a really bad vibe their." He nudged Spike onto a barstool "Tell me, bad memories?"  
  
"Lorne, Spike doesn't need a new wardrobe."  
  
"That's your opinion" Lorne muttered. On stage, the belching stopped. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a Koshkosh to suck up to."  
  
Spike didn't need to say anything, his expression spoke volumes.   
  
"Well, welcome to the one-man culture shock that is Lorne."  
  
"What the FUCK are we doing here?"  
  
Angel said "You're going to sing" and he shoved the songlist into Spike's hands "and then Lorne's going to read your aura."  
  
"Oh, that's ok, I was afraid it going to be something weird ... Have you gone completely bonkers?!"  
  
"Just pick a song ok? And make it a short one."   
  
Spike went straight for the Sex Pistols but as he surveyed the songs, images of his former, carefree life surfaced. No, pick something else. He settled on 'What'll I do?' by Cole Porter, a suitable title for sure.  
  
He heard Lorne's introduction 'The blond vampire straight from the Hellmouth' and dragged himself to the stage.  
  
As Spike sang, Lorne couldn't help but notice that this wasn't half-bad, unlike some vampires he knew. But there wasn't much time to enjoy the singing, 'cause boy was this vampire gonna hate what he had to say.  
  
Spike finished and drew a smatter of applause from the audience. He had to duck to avoid the antlers of a chaos demon rushing to the stage.   
  
Lorne watched him coming towards him, sure, he'd handle this vampire with his trademark cheerfulness but it would take some effort.  
  
Spike stopped within arms reach of the green skinned freak "So?" was all he said.  
  
"Have a seat" Lorne patted on the stool next to him.   
  
Spike just stood there like a statue "So?"  
  
"So ..." Lorne looked for a way out. Finding none, he resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to tell "Well, it's a jumble in there. It's like there was this great big Spike and someone came along and just smashed it all to pieces. So, now there are all this tiny little fragments of you and you can't make heads or tails of it all."  
  
Spike was obviously not liking this.  
  
"You reverted to the only part of you that felt natural ... your human self."  
  
With a very slight tremble in his voice Spike objected "But I was a wimp as a human."  
  
"As opposed to what you are now?" Angel added.  
  
Spike didn't have the strength to reply.  
  
"Sure, there's tiny bits and pieces of the vampire mixed in, but like I said ... you're lost."  
  
He already knew that, Spike realised. One question was burning in the back of his mind "Who attacked me?"  
  
Angel straightened himself, this he wanted to know.  
  
"Can't really say" Lorne continued "I can tell you this, it's big. Bigger then you or me or Angel. I don't think Angel here could beat it. In fact I'm sure of it. You've been looking for help with some pretty powerful people. The slayer, the wiccan, the watcher, none of them can help you. No one can help you fight this thing. I doubt even you can help you."  
  
Before Spike could formulate his next question, Lorne already provided the answer.  
  
"You're afraid it'll be back. I'll tell you this. It never left you in the first place."  
  
Spike's eyes shifted left, then right, he gulped audibly "How ...". His voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat, then tried again.  
  
"How do I fight it?"  
  
"I'm sorry" he truly was "I don't know."  
  
Spike's head dipped down, where his old self would start a rant, his new self just suffered in silence.  
  
Angel suppressed a sigh, Lorne had been his last ... correction, his only hope. "Come on Spike, we'll figure something out." but in his mind, he was already writing Spike off. Angel stormed out of the bar.  
  
Spike followed him, looking more like a beaten boxer then a vampire.  
  
Lorne stopped him "Listen Spike, if you want to survive its next attack, you need to prepare yourself. The bunch of fragments you're now can't hope to face it. You need to find that one fragment that defines you. Build it up, fortify it.  
You need to ask yourself, who you are, WHAT you are."  
  
"I'm a vampire."  
  
"Maybe"  
  
---  
  
The A-team sat around the table, Spike at one end, not really paying attention.  
  
"So," Angel called the meeting to order "what do we know?"  
  
"Spike's a royal bastard in dire need of a good staking?" Gunn offered.  
  
"Other then that" Wesley said.  
  
"Some super powerful thing wants Spike dead and it's with us right now" Cordy said "which, I might add, weirds me out beyond the telling of it. All in favour of getting rid of Spike."  
  
Three hands shot up, Spike didn't even notice.  
  
"Guys," Angel tried "we need to help Spike. Anyway, Cordy you could be wrong."  
  
"But, Lorne said this thing never left Spike."  
  
"No, about the wanting him dead part, we don't know that."  
  
Spike opened his mouth for the first time "bastard had enough chances."  
  
"Look" Angel tried to get things on track again "Spike needs to figure out what he is."  
  
The way Angel said it, it seemed as simple as '5 across, 7 letters, starts with a v, person who sleeps all day and has no tan'.  
  
"Again with the royal bastard" Gunn said.  
  
Angel shot him a look.  
  
"What? There's no two ways about it, he's a vampire! If he didn't have that chip in his head, we'd be dinner!" Gunn objected.  
  
Dead end, Angel tried another angle "Who's after him."  
  
Wesley answered "I've never read about anything this powerful. I mean ..."  
  
Cordy interrupted "Wolfram and Hart"  
  
"What?" Gunn said.  
  
"Wolfram and Hart's after him," Cordy repeated "Those four vamps we dusted ... they were carrying tasers."  
  
"Yeah, so? My crew's got tasers, not hard to come by." Gunn said.  
  
"Sure, but think about it, four vamps, no clear leader among them, armed with tasers ..."  
  
"Reeks of Wolfram and Hart alright" Angel agreed "But why him and why now?"  
  
"He is your grandchilde" Wesley tried "They might be trying to use him against you, like they did with Darla"  
  
"Yeah, and that worked so well" Cordy objected.  
  
Angel muttered "Good point"  
  
The meeting went on for a while. They explored Cordies vision, but there wasn't much to explore. It had been her shortest vision by far. They explored the W&H angle. Why did they want him? Why now? Why hadn't they tried a second time? Nothing fit, they kept running into walls and dead ends. After a while Gunn took off, Cordy drifted away from the table not much later. Soon, she was asleep on the couch. Angel called it a day. Wesley took it upon himself to see Cordy to her apartment.  
Spike and Angel sat alone for some time. Then Angel said, "I'm sorry"  
  
Spike just answered "So am I."  
  
Spike spent most of his time in his room, minutes faded into hours, hours into days, maybe weeks even. At first they assigned Spike sitters much like Willow, Buffy and Dawn had. But then Cordy got another vision and they got too busy to still sit with the silent corpse. They checked on Spike from time to time but soon enough, only Angel still did. Spike grew more silent by the day, sitting on his bed barely even touching his blood. At first he still felt the need to go kiss the sunlight but even that faded into nothingness. And then, when he stopped feeling anything at all, something somewhere sprung into action.  
  
---  
  
Yes, Spike was ready now. Just one more little nudge and Spike would be his. It had taken him lots of energy. Attacking Spike, sending that dream to the lawyer woman, implanting the vision in the seeer had been difficult, blocking the aura demon's ability hadn't been any easier and had only worked partially. Now, it was time for the final act in this sick little game.  
  
---  
  
Lilah again lay tossing in her bed. Same dream, only not, even more vivid. She actually felt physical pain when she was hurt in the dream. It took her ages to escape, to wake up. Staggering over to the bar, she cursed herself for not picking up a new bottle, there was barely a single shot left. She didn't bother with ice. She turned around and the precious liquid was wasted as the glass fell to the floor.  
  
"Lindsey?" I must still be dreaming.  
  
"Yes, Lindsey" the man in her bedroom said "But I don't know who you are."  
  
"What? It's me ... Lilah"  
  
"Are you? The Lilah that I remember was no quitter."  
  
"Quitter?"  
  
"Yeah, why haven't you caught Spike yet?"  
  
"But Mr.Reed said ..."  
  
"What? We're listening to that toad now?" Lindsey shook his head "You used to be strong, you used to have a career."  
  
Lilah walked to the door, still locked ... how did he get in "I can't order a new action."  
  
"Can't you?"  
  
A different voice ... this was ... She spun around to see Holland standing there. No more Lindsey.  
"Holland? But you're ..."  
  
"Dead? Definitely, but my contract ..."  
  
"extends beyond death" she had heard the rumours "Did the senior partners send you?"  
  
"No, this is a social visit." he paused "I had high hopes for you."  
  
"Had?"  
  
"Yes, had, this new, nice little Lilah" he shook his head "following orders to the letter, nice and punctual with the paperwork" he shrugged "You let Spike get away."  
  
"I didn't, I know where he is, I can still get him."  
  
"No, you'd have to go against Reed, you don't have it in you."  
  
She wanted to give him a piece of her mind but before she could utter a word, Holland dissolved before her eyes and a new figure appeared. Percy, her highschool sweetheart ... whom she dumped in favour of lawschool.   
  
"You were going to make it big, you said. Where's the big Lilah?"  
  
"But"  
  
"This is what you left me for? A position as a glorified secretary."  
  
"I'm NOT a secretary."  
  
"No? You do as you're told, no initiative, no independence."  
  
That did it "No initiative? I'll show you initiative. Before the day is over, Spike will be in my hands, mark my words!"  
  
By the time she got to the W&H offices, she was already wondering what had happened. She assumed she had dreamt the whole thing. Her subcontious giving her a much needed kick in the backside. In any event, she had a list of freelance W&H muscle she'd be able to recruit without to many alarms going off. A quick call to her personal assistant, telling him she'd be in the field all day, and she was off to a nearby demon hang-out.  
  
---  
  
Spike hadn't had a chance, even if he had tried to escape. Demons and humans burst into the room, pummelled him some and took him away. So, what else is new? If only the pain would stop. Maybe they'd kill him now, and that would be that. His keen senses could have told him how many were with him in the van, but why bother.  
After some driving, turning left, turning right, the van finally stopped. He got dragged out and was now in some building somewhere. Suddenly, the hood got torn of his head. He was surrounded by a good dozen men. Well, men and demons and vampires.  
Straight ahead of him was a woman in a suit and an older man.   
  
The man said "Bring him in here" and disappeared into the next room. The woman followed him. A Fyarl demon shoved him into the room and closed the door. There he was, in a room with no windows and just one door. No furniture of any kind, just concrete walls a man a woman and him.  
  
"Now what do we ..." the woman started but the man interrupted her.  
  
"Sit!" he bellowed in an unearthly voice.  
  
And the woman sat down in a corner.  
  
That voice, Spike felt something now, oh boy, did he feel something, terror, mind numbing fear. Sure enough, the gray haired man changed, dissolved, into ... IT.  
  
"Please, God, no!"  
  
"God is not in today, would you like to leave a piercing scream of agony?" a mocking laugh followed.  
  
Come on Spike, do something! Defend yourself!   
  
In his mind he screamed for Buffy to come and save him, for Willow, for Angel even. But none of them knew where he was. He looked at the woman, a blank expression on her face, she couldn't help him even if she wanted to. Escape! The steel door was the only way out ... and it was guarded by a shitload of demons.   
  
The thing came closer, no face, no limbs, just a black void. Why was it here? It was always with him Lorne had said. Inside of him? A second demon in his body? Impossible. Then where? In his mind?   
  
A crashing blow sent Spike flying into the wall.  
  
Please, no more, his mind screamed. Who am I? What am I? What defines me?  
  
Buffy.  
  
My love for Buffy defines me.  
  
He fixed the image of the slayer in his mind and clung to it like it was a talisman.  
  
Another blow, more pain, that wasn't it.  
  
If not Buffy then what? ... Dawn! of course, she's the key! She's MY key! I know I'm right!  
  
"No you're not," the void said and Spike was sent flying again.  
  
It knows everything! How can I fight it?  
  
"You can't, you're mine."  
  
A little voice inside of him whispered that it might be better to give up entirely.  
  
Again and again it attacked, faster and faster. The little voice grew stronger, give up Spike, surrender.  
  
But there was something mixed in with the voice ... a heartbeat? Not his own, his chest was as dead as ever. Not the woman, the heartbeat came from inside. Then, with a pang he realised what it was and with realisation came clarity. More out of despair then conviction, Spike grabbed hold of this new idea. The pain stopped.  
  
The black shape stood there, barely 3 feet away.  
  
"I know what I am now."  
  
A mocking laugh was his reward "And what would that be?"  
  
"A father"  
  
"HA! You call that abomination your child? Just because a witch shoved your sperm up her womb, you think you're a father."  
  
"Maybe not, but I know what I'm not."  
  
"And what might that be?"  
  
"A demon"  
  
The void howled "No demon? Take away the demon and what's left? A corpse!"  
  
"I know I'm right"  
  
"Hardly"  
  
"Well, I notice you're doing a shitload of talking and not much kicking my ass all of a sudden."  
  
The void stayed silent.  
  
"I'm more then just a demon" he took a step forward, for the first time in months a slight chuckle escaped his mouth "I can create as well as destroy. What demon does that?" He had his face right up to ... to where its face might have been if it had one.  
  
  
The thing rushed him, knocked him over.  
  
Careful Spike, focus, focus. He concentrated on the heartbeat inside his head, the heartbeat of Little William he had heard all those months ago, when the witches had double-teamed him. As long as he held onto that, the thing was powerless. It could only harm him if he allowed it to. This thing could only assault him mentally. Where had he heard that before?  
  
Of Course!!!  
  
"I know what you are now"  
  
"You know nothing!"  
  
"You're the first evil"  
  
Silence hung in the air. But Spike needed no confirmation.  
  
"It's different with all your victims, right? Angel, with him it was guilt. You knew you could feed him guilt until he collapsed. With her," he nodded at the woman "what was it with her? She's with that lawfirm right? What was it? Ego? Vanity? Did you promise her power and money?"  
  
Spike walked about a bit "Me ... couldn't get me through guilt 'cause I ain't no bleeding heart like nancy boy Angel. No you trashed my hot little body. Destroyed me. Well, guess what! You failed! Spike is back and he's here to stay."  
  
The void showed it's real face, a hideous visage, not human, not demonic, evil, ancient. It charged Spike.  
  
"Oh, sod off, bloody wanker" and Spike gave it the two fingered salute. The first evil struck at him but none of its blows hurt or even touched Spike. Its hold on Spike's mind was broken.  
Spike turned to the door and kicked it full force. The lock gave way.  
Spike stepped out of the room, among Lilah's waiting army. "If you wanna live, now'd be a grand time to run, screaming like a little girl."  
  
A huge demon stormed at him. Spike just smiled, stepped aside and snapped the beast's neck.   
  
"Get him!" one of the human musclebrains shouted.  
  
Screaming as he changed into his vampiric face, Spike dove among the horde. Fist and fangs flying. Sure, he took blows, got hurt, but he just couldn't give a rat's ass about it. The animal was back!   
  
The least dumb of his prey ran.  
  
Barely 5 minutes later, Spike was slowly crushing the windpipe of his last victim. The demon kept hitting him in the face.  
  
The blows only convinced Spike to kill the thing even slower. The body went limp. Spike dug in his claws, ripped out the throat and he screamed. At the top of his longs he screamed a scream of pent up rage and anger.   
  
Bleeding from several cuts, he collapsed onto his knees, hoarsely whispering "The was ... FUCKING ... great."  
  
---  
  
Willow collapsed onto the couch, hoarsely whispering "I'm going to die."  
  
Anya eyed the utterly exhausted lump of woman and called out to Xander "If you ever get me pregnant, I'll kill, honey."  
  
Xander just smiled and motioned to Giles to hand him a wrench.  
  
Giles saw that Xander wouldn't need him for a while, so he walked over to Willow "How far apart are they now?"  
  
Willow glanced at Tara who was holding a watch and a notepad.  
  
"9 minutes" Tara answered.  
  
"Why don't you lie down a bit?" Giles said softly.  
  
Willow shook her head "They'll come faster."  
  
"I may not be the expert here, but isn't that the point?"  
  
Willow sighed "When I get back up, they'll slow down again."  
  
Giles tried to think of something to ease her suffering. He cursed himself for not reading up more on the subject. But the whole affair had seemed too grizzly to him. Then Willow screamed again.  
  
"Come on, Willow, breath with me" and Tara started to make exaggerated breathing movements.  
  
"Oh Shut UP!" Willow shot back at her, clutching her belly. So much for Lamaze.  
  
When the contraction subsided, Willow leaned against Tara "I didn't mean that" she whispered.  
  
Tara guided Willow's head onto her shoulder "I know."  
  
"Mad?"  
  
"Course not, I love what you're doing."  
  
"OK"  
  
"OK?"  
  
"Yes, next time, you get pregnant."  
  
Tara smiled. "I love you," she said, barely audible.  
  
Willow mouthed 'I love you too' but she couldn't quite summon the energy to tilt her head and kiss Tara.  
  
"Check it out" Tara showed her the pad, the last two entries said 12:07 and 12:12.  
  
This news gave her the energy to tilt her head "Go now?"  
  
"They should be like this for an hour" Tara said.  
  
Willow dug up her saddest look and repeated "Go now?"  
  
Tara closed her eyes. Yes, get help, get epidural she thought. She looked Willow in the eyes and said "Go now."  
  
They shared a quick kiss. Then Tara looked up at Giles. Giles took the cue and went to collect Willow's suitcase.  
  
Anya shot up "What? What? It's coming? The offspring is coming?" She rushed over to Xander and dragged him away from the fittings. "Make me a baby, now."  
  
"Anya, you're kind off all over the place here," Xander said.  
  
Xander went over to Willow, intending to give her a good luck hug but she looked so fragile that he decided against it.  
He settled for "Good luck Will, love ya."  
  
Willow managed a smile "That's me, I'm loveable."  
  
Anya joined her man and practically shouted "Good luck!"  
  
Tara guided Willow to Giles's car while Giles stuffed the suitcase in the trunk.  
  
Meanwhile in LA, a lone figure marched into a vamp nest, stepped right up to their leader and said "That's my bike."  
  
The leader laughed "So?"  
  
The intruder changed into his game face and said "I'll be dancing in your dust."  
  
A roar, a brawl and the intruder was alone again  
  
---  
  
"... and if you press this button you'll get a new dose," the anestesist said "Don't worry, you can't give yourself an OD."  
  
"Thank you" Tara said.  
  
Willow was in heaven, well, maybe not heaven but at least the pain was less. Her brain now started processing the input of the last few hours. "Where's Giles" she asked the woman she loved.  
  
"In the hall" Tara replied "I think he's meaning to stick around until ..."  
  
"Until we're mommies?" Willow suggested  
  
Tara smiled, that word gave her a warm feeling and it made her just a little worried. God, a baby, how ... what ...  
She looked at Willow and knew they'd handle it. "He's such a fuddy-duddy"  
  
"Yeah, he's a fuddy-duddy"  
  
Willow shifted a bit, somewhat weirded out that she seemed to be missing both legs.  
  
"Tara?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"What's a fuddy-duddy?"  
  
Meanwhile in LA, a man with a sheet wrapped around him burst into a bikeshop. Amidst a faint smell of burnt meat he yanked a suit of a rack. He slapped the suit on the counter and said "And that helmet over there."  
  
The shopkeep was too surprised to say anything or to comment on the dust on the bills this freak produced. He was pleased to see him exit his shop, now wearing the full body suit and the helmet with the tinted glasses. The sheet was no longer needed apparently.  
  
---  
  
"Stand aside, sir" a nurse said as he wheeled Willow through the hall.  
  
Giles pressed himself against the wall, leaving plenty of room "What's going on? Are you alright Willow?"  
  
It was the nurse who answered "Don't worry, you'll be a granddad in no time by the looks of it".  
  
Giles stood in the middle of the hall, asif nailed to the floor.   
His mind was churning 'Granddad? Me? I ... I ... suppose ... you could ... Blimey, I'm going to be a granddad!'  
  
Meanwhile on the highway, a madman on a vintage Harley was zigzagging through traffic. He had apparently never heard of speedlimits.  
  
Meanwhile in a Sunnydale hospital, Willow was desperately trying to remember Lamaze class. Oh fuck it, she thought.   
  
"Push now!" the midwife said.  
  
Tara pressed down on Willows belly as she had been instructed to do.  
  
"OK, stop, he's crowning. One more time, feel up to it?"  
  
"Yes" Willow lied, as she felt another contraction coming on.  
  
"Wait for it! Now!"  
  
With everything she had left in her, Willow tried to evict Little William from his home. Through a haze of pain and drugs and exhaustion, she heard a shrill voice complain bitterly against the manhandling he was subjected to. "Isheok?Ishenormal?" she blurted at Tara.   
  
Tara was damn close to hyperventilating as she stared at the little lump of humanity "What? Yes, yes, He's fine, he's perfect. Oh Willow, he's so cute." She semi-hugged Willow and muttered "well, except for all the blood and gore and stuff."  
  
Now, Willow caught a glimpse of her child as they took it to the next room to be cleaned. William was still vehemently protesting the entire event. Things barely registered in Willow's mind, but one thing did get through. A shaft of sunlight briefly touched William. No smoke, no fire, William's crying didn't increase any. Her son was human.  
  
Meanwhile on the highway, a few miles closer to Sunnydale, a vampire on a motorcycle missed a slow moving truck by little more than a foot. His thoughts no less erratic then his driving, the events of the past few days raced through him mind. He wondered how long he had been in LA. More then 2 weeks, that's for sure. But how much more? Willow ... Willow would be damn near 9 months right now. He had to be there, had to hurry. And Dawn? How did she cope with his leaving? Would she still be his friend? Oh yes, he liked the little thing. He tried not to think of it but SHE was also there, in his mind: The Slayer. He knew here ... more or less ... he wouldn't be surprised if she staked him the moment she laid eyes on him and he couldn't even blame her. What could he tell her? What should he say?  
  
---  
  
Giles enjoyed his tea. He had been very surprised when Willow's suitcase turned out to contain a waterboiler. "Especially for you" Tara had said. Giles had been unaware that, with Spike gone, he had been the girl's main source of comfort. They had even packed an actual cup, not a plastic cup, an actual cup. Life was good, now things could settle down some and in time everyone would forget ...  
  
"SPIKE!" the piercing scream of Dawn towered over the chatter.  
  
Before he managed to look at the door, Willow has already echoed the scream. He saw Dawn crash into a walking flowershop. Buried under the jungle, and now one ecstatic teen, was the lost vampire.   
  
Dawn kept saying "SpikeSpikeSpike".  
  
"Hey," Willow said.  
  
Dawn finally stopped hugging Spike, her Spike, and said "Missed you."  
Then she gave him a girlie punch in the chest "Don't you ever do that again." and she hugged him again "Missed me?"  
  
"Hey!" Willow said a little louder.  
  
"Course Milady" Spike answered Dawn.  
  
"HEY!" Willow now shouted.  
  
Spike finally looked at her. She stretched her arms out at him. He walked over to the bed, dumping the small forest he was carrying in Tara's arms and Willow then did some hugging of her own.  
  
"Told you I'd be back"  
  
Buffy quietly snuk out with a face set to stormy weather.  
  
Willow beckoned Tara to bring William over. Big William and Little William beheld eachother for the first time. Well, Spike did the beholding. Little William limited himself to complaining against the being held by someone with cold hands.  
  
"Isn't he cute?" Willow chirped.  
  
"What did you expect, he's got my cheekbones," Spike smiled.  
  
"And my eyes" Tara added.  
  
"And of course" Spike brought the little bundle closer to his face "red hair".  
  
Willow did her humanly impossible smile thingy.  
  
The conversation carried on, mostly focusing on Spike, until William claimed his rightful place at the centre of attention by forcefully demanding to be fed. Willow adjusted herself so that not too much of her breast was showing. Anya immediately repeated her demand for impregnation.  
  
Spike, now free of everyones attention, walked over to Giles.   
"Where did Buffy wander off to?"  
  
Giles sighed, looked away. Should he help Spike? This guy hurt his Buffy time and time again ... and that was AFTER he got the chip. He reached a decision. Buffy was a big girl now, correction, woman; whatever Spike threw at her, she could handle him.  
"You might want to check the salon at the end of the hall," he said, never looking at Spike.  
  
"Cheers mate."  
  
"Ooh, sod off, I'm not your mate."   
  
But Spike was already gone.  
  
---  
  
Spike carefully approached the slayer. She was standing at a window. A window facing the west no less. There she was, The sunlight gave her a sort of halo around her figure. She was wearing a fairly basic combo, pants and a top. The cheerful colors would have normally upset his sense of eternal doom and gloom. Now, they called him near, teased him. 'She's right here, Spike, and you can't reach her.' By all that's holy and unholy, he wanted to grab her, hold her close, squeeze some of her bodyheath into him.   
Yes, there she was, in the sunlight, so close and yet so far. But it wasn't the sunlight that made her unreachable, the sunlight would go away in an hour or three, four. Would she love him again by then, hell, would she acknowledge his existence by then, hell, would he survive the next 5 minutes!  
He had a dozen plans to win her back, sadly, all of them included touching her.  
He took up position next to the window, some two feet from her. He was fresh out of things to say.  
  
She saved him, probably without knowing it "So."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, you're alive."  
  
"As much as ever."  
  
"The big bad?"  
  
"Gone."  
  
"Dead?"  
  
"No, just gone."  
  
"What was it?"  
  
"First Evil."  
  
"Oh" then she paused, still staring out the window.  
  
Spike was quite relieved that no wood had yet penetrated his chest.  
  
"And?" Buffy said.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And isn't this the part where you declare to me your eternal love and you tell me you came back for me, just me and beg me not to shove THIS" she turned towards him, suddenly holding a stake "through your heart!"   
At a lower tone she added "Which you so richly deserve."  
  
Spike straightened himself "Buffy," he paused, looking for the words "I came back because I promised Willow ..."  
  
Buffy let escape a little "Oh". This was unexpected.  
  
"I promised her I'd be here for William ... and for her. I came back for Dawn. Can't let down the little nibblet."  
  
God, how he would have loved to step up to her right now. "But most of all, I came back for you. For, without you, Dawn and Willow and William are just three more faces in an endless line." That part was almost true. "I've got my life back but without you it's just an empty husk. Love? Yes, I love you, which you bloody well know already."  
  
He got as close to her as he could without bursting into flame. "You are my anchor in the human world. You're my escape from the night, the demon world. If I can't be with you, I might aswell be dust."  
  
Buffy couldn't help but think back to when she found him, bleeding and broken, on the floor of his crypt. Yes, she loved him back then. She thought back his stay in the basement, it hurt her to see him like that, and she, unable to help him. She thought back to him leaving, without telling her, just leaving a note, a note that said 'I love you' ... emptier words she had never read. And now this monster was back to torment her once again. And she'd probably take him back, maybe love him again and have that sex that was so very very wrong again. Now, if she just took this stake and did what came natural ...  
It was alright, She was the slayer, the VAMPIRE slayer. It was ok, she'd just stake him and with his dust, all her problems, all her turmoil would blow away, or get sucked up by a vacuum cleaner.   
The image of the great big vacuum cleaner of problems passing over her and relieving her of all her problems made her smile. Yes, her problems would go away ... for about two seconds and then Riley would come to Sunnydale to fight some great evil. Or Cordy would have a vision about her and Angel'd come riding in on his white horse or she'd meet someone new and he'd break her heart like they all did.   
She might aswell get back with Spike. Enjoy it while it lasted. The sex might be wrong but that didn't mean it wasn't good. And he'd give her an excuse to stake him soon enough ... after all he was still a demon.  
  
She stepped out of the sunlight, into the shadow. The shadow was neutral ground, Not the night of the demons, not quite the day of the humans.  
  
Spike could have wondered how easily their lips found eachother, with both of them having their eyes closed, but he decided to enjoy the moment. 


End file.
